


Another Love

by barakatballs



Category: Raske Menn, Ylvis
Genre: ? - Freeform, Angst, Ballanders, Balle - Freeform, Banders, M/M, canders - Freeform, no wives or kids au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-21
Updated: 2014-04-21
Packaged: 2018-01-20 05:28:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 977
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1498366
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/barakatballs/pseuds/barakatballs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Trying to leave the past behind, Calle leaves Anders to start again but is he moving on too fast?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Another Love

**Author's Note:**

> A while ago in March, I wrote "The Day You Came to Me" - fluffy Canders - for starchaserr. Recently, I mentioned I should write a second chapter but it could be angst instead of happy ending, so I wrote "the second chapter" but never published until ulvene [hello dear] mentioned Ballanders [Bård/Calle/Anders] and I thought, "Well the second chapter is technically Ballanders...." 
> 
> So here it is I guess! It shall be in five chapters (maybe more or less, who knows?) and they're not too long. It takes place in July 2014, no wives or kids AU and their ages are the same. The title comes from the song "Another Love" by Tom Odell - the mood music of this fanfic. 
> 
> Carry on
> 
> \- fifi

Calle remembered it clearly.

The music was too damn loud at the bachelor party. _Avicii_ blaring on the stereo; it nearly deafened the intoxicated Calle, his fourth beer in his free hand, cigarette in the other.

After a quick drag, Calle asked for the time from the bartender, smoke coming out from his nostrils as the thirty-seven year old took another sip.

 _2:34_ was his answer and his cue to start walking back to his apartment, so Calle tipped the bartender, slid off his stool and head towards the exit. He needed to get back home to his fiancé Anders Hoff, his partner in the comedy trio Raske Menn and lover for eight years.

Anders didn’t like to be kept waiting.

As Calle slipped his arms into his field jacket, he felt a hand on his shoulder. By the size of the hand, familiar scent and incoherent giggling Calle identified it as his friend Bård.

Bård hiccupped, “Where you going?”

“Home,” Calle answered in a matter of fact tone, “I’m tired, Øyvind left already and Vegard passed out on the sofa, you should head home soon.” Calle blinked a couple of times; he was fighting to keep himself awake. Bård yawned softly, “Yeah once Vegard is up, we’re heading back. I have to pack anyway.”

“Pack?” Calle questioned, that certainly woke him up a bit more, “Where you heading?”

“Fana,” Bård chirped gleefully, “I’m staying there for a couple of days in my old apartment, just getting away from Oslo and I don’t know mini vacation I guess.”

Calle smiled, he remembered old times in Fana, “Have fun then,” he pointed a finger at Bård, adding playfully, “And don’t miss the wedding.”

Bård giggled, “I won’t, trust me.”

Calle embraced Bård as a goodbye; half of his body was already out the door when Calle ruffled the brownish blonde hair, “Good night Bård.”

“Good night and congratulations!”

Calle waved one last time before stuffing both hands in his pockets for warmth, it was unusually chilly for July but he paid no attention, his main concern was to get home and into bed – with Anders.

In a couple days, the engaged couple were going to tie the knot.

Calle cherished the memory of when Anders proposed to him. He was nervous, fidgeting in his chair on live television broadcasting all over Norway, checking his phone constantly like a teenage girl. So when the contact _Anders Hoff_ popped on the screen of his phone, Calle was relieved and annoyed. He was instructed to meet his boyfriend on the now empty stage of _I Kveld Med Ylvis,_ his hands roughly opening the door and feet stumbling into a darkened room. The long haired man was flabbergasted at first – was it a trick? A cruel joke played by either Anders or the Ylvisåker brothers? But then _he_ appeared, descending down the staircase with flowers in one hand and a microphone held near his lips where Anders began to sing _their_ song. It was a recent song _Come to Me_ by the Goo Goo Dolls but to Calle and Anders, it reminded them of their commitment and love towards each other. It was the perfect song to propose to – the butterflies fluttering in both men’s stomachs, Anders bending on one knee with a golden band glistening in the velvet box. Needless to say, as Calle looked at the ring on his finger, it was a dream becoming true.

Calle hummed the guitar riff of _Come to Me_ as he got closer to his apartment. He could see the lights were on in their bedroom; Anders was home waiting Calle thought as he smiled to himself, reaching for his keys in his jeans.

Yet when Calle pressed the key into the lock, the door was already open.

 _That’s funny_ Calle thought, cautiously stepping his foot inside, _Anders never leaves the door unlocked._

Calle hung his coat, kicked off his sneakers before ascending the stairs – again the door was opened.

Walking inside, Calle almost tripped on what he thought was his shoes or Anders’.

Yet when he kicked them aside, his foot was met with the jab of _red sharp stiletto heels._

“ _What the hell…”_ Calle cursed in a low whisper, squatting down as he picked up the thrown heels, examining them as if he was detective in the crime shows he watched. His fingers scratched his golden mane, head tilt in confusion – the size was too small for anyone in Raske Menn, meaning it wasn’t a prop for any upcoming skits. The only next logical reason on why these heels were in _his_ apartment made Calle tremble. The tired blue eyes stared at the bedroom door located at the end of the apartment, it was opened ajar and the light shone inside.

Calle straightened himself, walking gingerly on the carpeted floor towards the room, his heart aching – _You’re overreacting; Anders would never do that to you._

 _It’s nothing_ Calle assured himself, his pace was steady but it seemed the door was miles away –

_It’s nothing. I’m going to walk in there and Anders is going to be waiting for me like he always does and we’ll go to sleep._

He was merely a few inches from the door when he stopped, his entire body frozen in shock, eyes widened and jaw dropped. _No._

His body began trembling, nausea washing over him entirely. No longer in control of his movements, his knees dropped onto the carpet, a soft thud. Calle clasped his hand on mouth, biting the flesh to contain his screams and sobs, salty tears running over the hand. Calle tried to steady his breathing but his chest was pounding.

Calle was paralyzed, glued to the dreadful spot where he could hear _everything_

Calle could still hear _it_ so clearly.

The moans of a woman, and she gasped _Anders_ _fuck me harder_.

**Author's Note:**

> The way I imagined the apartment (I'm talking about the staircase) is like how 221 B Baker Street is like in BBC Sherlock  
> Just thought you guys should know  
> It's really short, but I liked the way I wrote it so ... chapter two coming soon
> 
> Feedback would be awesome
> 
> \- fifi


End file.
